“Not at all,” he answered, with a deprecatory wave of the hand.  “If you don’t do your own talking, who’s to do it for you?  Now I understand your predicament precisely.  You want to get on the Intelligencer, you want to get in at once, and you have had no previous experience.  In the first place, then, have you any pull?  There are a dozen men in the city, a line from whom would be an open-sesame.  After that you would stand or fall by your own ability.  There’s Senator Longbridge, for instance, and Claus Inskeep the street-car magnate, and Lane, and McChesney—­” He paused, with voice suspended.

“I am sure I know none of them,” she answered despondently.

“It’s not necessary.  Do you know any one that knows them? or any one that knows any one else that knows them?”

Edna shook her head.

“Then we must think of something else,” he went on, cheerfully.  “You’ll have to do something yourself.  Let me see.”

He stopped and thought for a moment, with closed eyes and wrinkled forehead.  She was watching him, studying him intently, when his blue eyes opened with a snap and his face suddenly brightened.

“I have it!  But no, wait a minute.”

And for a minute it was his turn to study her.  And study her he did, till she could feel her cheeks flushing under his gaze.

“You’ll do, I think, though it remains to be seen,” he said enigmatically.  “It will show the stuff that’s in you, besides, and it will be a better claim upon the Intelligencer people than all the lines from all the senators and magnates in the world.  The thing for you is to do Amateur Night at the Loops.”

“I—­I hardly understand,” Edna said, for his suggestion conveyed no meaning to her.  “What are the ‘Loops’? and what is ’Amateur Night’?”

“I forgot you said you were from the interior.  But so much the better, if you’ve only got the journalistic grip.  It will be a first impression, and first impressions are always unbiased, unprejudiced, fresh, vivid.  The Loops are out on the rim of the city, near the Park,—­a place of diversion.  There’s a scenic railway, a water toboggan slide, a concert band, a theatre, wild animals, moving pictures, and so forth and so forth.  The common people go there to look at the animals and enjoy themselves, and the other people go there to enjoy themselves by watching the common people enjoy themselves.  A democratic, fresh-air-breathing, frolicking affair, that’s what the Loops are.

“But the theatre is what concerns you.  It’s vaudeville.  One turn follows another—­jugglers, acrobats, rubber-jointed wonders, fire-dancers, coon-song artists, singers, players, female impersonators, sentimental soloists, and so forth and so forth.  These people are professional vaudevillists.  They make their living that way.  Many are excellently paid.  Some are free rovers, doing a turn wherever they can get an opening, at the Obermann, the Orpheus, the Alcatraz, the Louvre, and so forth and so forth.  Others cover circuit pretty well all over the country.  An interesting phase of life, and the pay is big enough to attract many aspirants.